


I Found

by Delatrista



Category: RWBY
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-19
Updated: 2021-03-24
Packaged: 2021-03-28 12:28:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30139572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Delatrista/pseuds/Delatrista
Summary: “Sun Wukong,” Blake says softly, “I don’t need, or want, fancy dinners or expensive galas.” She runs her thumb underneath his eye. “I have everything I need right here. You’ve already proven yourself, every time you’ve been there for me when I needed you. I don’t want anything else except for you.” Sun leans into the hand she’s pressed onto his cheek, and she glances down to their joined hold, where her ring is clasped between their fingers.He can tell she has something more to say, and he keeps his eyes on her as the sun continues to rise, warming the air between them.“So, will you stick with me for a little while longer? Will you marry me?” Blake asks quietly.And really, how else is Sun going to answer that question except for…“Of course.”Five times Sun asks + one time he answers.
Relationships: Blake Belladonna/Sun Wukong
Kudos: 5





	1. i.

**Author's Note:**

> This was a work that was first posted on my Tumblr, which you can find [here,](https://eight-of-pentacles.tumblr.com/post/188311322171/sun-will-somehow-screw-up-his-marriage-proposal-to) if you'd like to read the original. I've done some fairly significant editing to it since then! As such, I'll be uploading each section as a different chapter.  
> 

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vacuo, part one.

**i.**

The idea comes to him in the same way a lightning strike hits: unexpected, blinding, and earth-shattering.

It’s an innocent enough thought, in theory. One that has life breathed into it at the sight of an innocuous couple standing in front of a food stall, wearing matching bands of gold on their left hands.

The two men are whispering softly between themselves, and when one of them wraps his arms around the other’s shoulders in a way that makes his wedding ring wink in the streaming rays of desert sun, filtering through the gaps of cloth canopies, it looks as natural as breathing. Like they’ve been folding into one another all their lives.

_I want to marry Blake,_ Sun thinks then, as he’s walking aimlessly through Vacuo’s central marketplace, and missing the familiar shadow of her presence at his side.

After a year of her being a constant in his daily life, Sun has been uprooted, his loneliness exposed, without Blake there to keep him tethered. He still has yet to fully realize that it has been weeks since he had been in that crowded train station; every time he tries to draw upon the memory, the strange ache in his chest flares as though it were a fresh wound. Sore and red.

Yet he keeps poking it, stubbornly trying to recapture the moment when the air between him and her had been filled with unsaid goodbye’s and until next time’s. And while he’s started to grow used to the constant feeling of unbalance, to the intrusive thoughts of missing Blake and worrying that she remains safe in Atlas’s tundras, he hadn't been prepared for this. For thinking that he would want to marry someone who exists more as a concept to him than a reality, who remains a continent and an ocean away. 

But more than that, he hadn't been prepared for the errant wish that he could tie himself, a drifter, a nomad, _no-one_ , to another person in such an integral way.  No— it’s not the thought itself which surprises him, but rather the suddenness of it, which causes him to trip into Sage’s back.

His teammate stumbles along with him from the unexpected weight. 

Thankfully, Scarlet and Neptune— mere feet ahead of them— don’t notice the disturbance. Sun offers a hasty excuse to Sage when the taller man turns to look at him, with an unspoken question in his eyes.

“Just tripped on a rock,” he says, with a grin that feels cold on his lips. He rests his hands behind his head to add to the relaxed front he was presenting.

He knows he’s being unreasonable; but there’s a gravity to this new-found revelation which he isn’t ready to confront, and he’s trying very hard to not look scared in a public place like this. 

Sage’s expression is one belonging to someone who does not believe what they’re being told, but all he offers in response is to slowly lean around Sun, and looks at the crowded pathway behind them. He takes in the noticeable lack of any rubble before nodding in their teammates’ direction, and continuing on without a word.

The smile slips from Sun’s face as soon as Sage’s back is turned to him again, replaced by a grimace. He shoves his hands in his pockets as he follows behind.

They’re _supposed_ to be looking for a contact they were told to meet, in order to get information about a mole in Shade Academy who needed to be dug up, before the events of Beacon and Haven could be repeated again. But Team SSSN have always been ones who couldn’t keep to a strict schedule, much to Scarlet’s dismay; this time, their delay was caused by a detour owed to Neptune’s fascination with “quaint” markets. They were currently on their second hour roaming within the cramped maze of tents, stalls, and people. 

If that irritation wasn’t enough, Sun also keeps noticing couples everywhere he looks; even when he isn’t trying _._ It shouldn’t bother him, he knows, he can’t relate to them and their easy smiles, their casual touches, and yet— 

And yet.

The closest he and Blake were to a relationship was something that felt like _almost,_ something more than friends but less than lovers. Almost together, but too far apart for it to have led somewhere before their paths diverged. All it had left them with was a gray in-between, one filled with possibilities for the future, and his own voice saying _who knows?_

He had been glad, truly, for Blake to finally overcome her demons in order to be back with her friends. He had even been happy to return to the boys he considered his brothers— though it had taken more than a little blood, sweat, and tears for him to make up for abandoning them a second time within the space of a year— but despite this, there’s a small part of him that wishes he had gone with Blake to Atlas instead of flying to the other end of Remnant. The act of seeing every couple walking past, and superimposing his and Blake’s likenesses over the people he sees, had lost its luster several weeks ago.

When another glint of gold catches his eye, he finds himself pausing to inspect further— because it’s not on the hand of a nameless person next to him, for once. 

Amidst the large canvas tents and the vibrant awnings that spread over the market like multicolored wings, there is a thin table set down a makeshift alley of crates and discarded garbage next to him. It makes for a lonely sight, and likely never saw customers, given how it is tucked between the gaps of larger stalls. Sun wonders at how he had taken notice of it from so far away.

He glances over to his team, where he sees Neptune and Sage talking to a vendor a few stalls down, and Scarlet admiring a rack of silk scarves. It’s enough for him to make a split-second choice, and dart down the small corridor which led to the lonely table.

It’s shadowed underneath a worn cloth, more of a rag than a proper tarp at this point. The fabric was striped through with faded shades of crimson and yellow, catching the sun’s rays in the places where threadbare holes didn’t puncture its surface, and protecting the elderly man who sat behind a display of various jewelry and trinkets.

The man watches him approach with kind, wrinkled eyes, and Sun offers him a smile that feels more genuine on his face as he stops to admire the necklaces and rings that decorate the red tablecloth spread out across the old wooden table.

“These look nice,” he comments once he comes to a stop. He reaches to pick up the gold band which had drawn his attention, inlaid with glistening white gemstones. The old man doesn’t say anything, instead just watching him with the same soft expression. He was likely just making sure he doesn’t steal anything— but Sun wouldn’t do that to his elders.

He may be a street rat, a thief, but even he has standards.

He puts the ring back to the small pillow it had been resting on, and moves to admire the necklaces which hung from the spindly arms of flimsy wooden holders, and could be spun on their axes for the viewer to appreciate their full display. 

“Do you make all of these yourself?” he asks. The old man nods, and Sun goes quiet.

He had gone back to looking at the rings when the old man speaks.

“You look like you have someone in mind, for something like this,” he tells Sun, speaking in the rasping voice of someone who does not talk often. 

Sun looks to the silver ring he’s holding, then to the old man, and finally points to himself.

“Me?” he asks, incredulous. “Nah, I’m just browsing, here—” he sets the ring back to its place, and shrugs. “They just look nice, is all.”

The old man smiles, and Sun is left feeling that his companion knows something that he does not. “I made my wife’s ring,” he says. “Gold was sparse in those days, hoarded by the bandit clans…but I had just enough to make one ring.” 

Sun stares at him for a few moments, then hums absently.

“Do you take requests?” he asks suddenly, impulsively, and while his better judgement is telling him this is a bad idea, he’s never been one to pass an opportunity when one comes along. 

The old man eyes him for a moment, but then he grins, revealing a few missing teeth. “For the right price, but I have a feeling I might make an exception for you, if you are willing to do something for me,” he says.

Sun does his best not to grimace; this _is_ Vacuo, where favors are repaid with favors, each one more ridiculous than the last and each one more likely to get you killed rather than the thing you want. He nods for the man to continue, and what he hears isn’t what he was expecting. 

“You look like a capable Huntsman, yes? Did you attend Shade?” 

Sun replies that no, he’s from Vacuo, but he attended Haven for his training. 

The old man makes a thoughtful sound. “That is a shame. I hear Shade is having a rat problem in the kitchens lately, but it may be just a rumor.” He reaches forward, grasps onto Sun’s hand, and clasps his other hand over their joined fists. 

“If you know an exterminator, you may want to send them to the Academy,” he says, and Sun feels a warm piece of metal being pressed into his palm before the old man draws back, who he gawks at as though he were seeing him through new eyes.

“Wait— you’re who we’re supposed to…” he whispers, but the man shushes him quickly with a finger pressed to his own lips, before nodding to Sun’s closed fist. He unwraps his fingers from around a thick gold ring, unassuming and plain, but as he inspects the inside rim he sees an inscription engraved into the metal, along with an address. Sun looks back up to the old man, who has procured a paper and pen, and begins to write before Sun can question him further. 

“Tell me about the girl, and I can make your rings,” he says. Sun levels a confused stare at him, until the man nods at him, directing him to speak.

..:|:..

It isn’t long until Sun is leaving the old man’s stall behind, with a hand wrapped tight around the ring which bore the encoded message that was secured in his pocket, along with the bill for the custom rings that were to be shipped to his temporary address once they were completed. 

He checks his Scroll with his other hand as he walks back into the crushing wall of foot traffic, and is greeted with the flashing alerts of several, increasingly panicked messages from his teammates asking him where the hell he went, and why he won’t answer their calls. He sends a text to Neptune, telling him he’ll meet them back at the rental house they’ve procured for their stay in the desert kingdom, before pulling up his contacts list.

All around him, people flow through the street. Their bodies move past him like water, and he watches the couples going by, without that heavy weight of longing to tug him down for the first time in weeks.

Absently, his thumb hovers over Blake’s name on his screen. The picture beside her name is one of her from before the Fall, with the ribbon over her Faunus ears and her head bowed over a book in a secluded corner Beacon’s library. It’s one of many pictures he has of her, where she is absorbed in a book, or looking off into the distance. He unwraps his fingers from around the lone ring the old man had given him, and feels the paper of the bill with his fingers. He presses “dial” on his Scroll, and finally puts it to his ear.

After a few rings, the line picks up.

**“Hello?”** Blake’s voice comes through quickly, wavering with the static of distance and interference.

He still thinks that he has never heard a more perfect sound, despite the distortion.

_“Will you marry me?”_ Sun wants to ask. 

“Hey. How’s the mountains?” he says instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because this is a work that is 1.) already on my tumblr, and 2.) almost entirely completed, I'll be posting a new chapter every other day, just in case there's any last minute changes I want to make. This'll give me something lighthearted to work on between all the doom and gloom of My Name Is Sun, right?
> 
> Anyways, thanks for reading!


	2. ii.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vacuo, part two.

**ii.**

Sun has carried the rings with him for over a year now.

Admittedly, he could just leave them in a lockbox, or a safe— or really anywhere else that wasn’t in his pants pocket, with the bands loosely rattling where they could fall out at any time. But he finds a sense of security in the weight of them, and has picked up a habit of frequently stuffing his hands into his pockets to fiddle with the gold-and-black bands.

The old man whose name he had never learned, and who he’s never seen since that day in the market, had mailed them to his temporary house with a note attached to the unassuming package.

_“Wait until the time is right,”_ the letter had read, _“you will know when it is, and don’t ask her before then.”_

And so the rings stayed with him wherever he went.  They were of complimentary design, one made of gold and inlaid with a black diamond, the other made of black metal, with gold lining the inner rim of its surface.

The alternating colors had been purely the old man's idea, not that Sun minded it in the slightest; the designs suited him and Blake well. They contrasted against each other, and the story of their relationship was told in the way the gold and ebony metals were overlaid atop each other, creating something neither of them could have become on their own. In a way, he thought it was poetic.

The constant presence of the rings in his pocket also serves as a reminder of why he had gotten them in the first place; even if they may have been an impulsive decision at the start, one made before he and Blake could ever consider the possibility of a future with one another.

But they ground him despite that, anchoring him to the floor whenever his legs itch to run somewhere else— to take him anywhere other than where he is. Trapped in a dying city, stuck in the middle of the wastelands. The effect still isn't enough to replace Blake's quiet presence at his side. But the rings make for a good substitute, when the worrying becomes too much to bear. 

While he knows that RWBY and JNPR had arrived in Vacuo months ago, Sun hasn’t seen any of them in person. They needed to keep an extremely low profile, which meant no contact with the outside world, and definitely no Scroll calls that could be traced by a certain mad scientist who was under Salem’s employ.

This has led to weeks of radio silence in which Sun hasn’t heard from Blake, and he’s not ashamed to admit he’s going _slightly_ bananas with concern. He knows he’s driving his team up the wall with his fretting as well, constantly checking his Scroll and the CCT news broadcasts for any scrap of information about the now infamous Team RWBY.

He’s not entirely certain if he’s grateful or concerned that there have been no reports on the girls since their escapades in Atlas, but he _is_ confident that he doesn’t like not knowing where they are, or if they are safe.

If Blake is safe.

In the last few weeks, he’s taken to distracting himself from the cycle of checking his Scroll every few minutes by heading to the hole-in-the-wall cafés which dot Vacuo's winding mazes of gray-and-tan adobe buildings. The various drinks are almost sweet enough to keep his mind off of darker thoughts, and when that isn’t enough, the act of taking on increasingly difficult missions with his team— that often have them braving the unforgiving desert— leaves him bone-weary, and ensures he goes to bed with an empty mind every night.

There have been a few near-death experiences, where they’ve almost been swallowed alive by yawning sinkholes that hid beneath the surface of the sands, or hordes of Grimm ambush them, bursting into existence from the rippling desert air.

Sun can tell that his teammates are getting increasingly wary of leaving the relative safety of Vacuo’s walls, with every brush with danger. He doesn’t blame them, but he knows they need the money to pay their rent. He won’t have them living on the streets for as long as he can avoid it.

At present, however, he and his team remain in the city. He’s walking out of a café he has taken a liking to, owed to their strawberry-banana smoothies being the best he’s had in a very long time. The shop is located on a nicer side of town; though “nicer” is a relative term. One only needs to take into consideration that the only reason it is that way is due to the presence of the very few potted plants which line the wide streets, in order to appreciate the difference such a detail makes.

Plant life is rare, in this part of the world; to have foliage— even the spindly, hardened bushes native only to the dunes— serve a purely decorative purpose is one of the greatest signs of wealth in Vacuo. It is a display only surpassed by the gratuitous use of water to decorate one's surroundings. That is a feature which only accentuates the districts which sit at the top of Vacuo's cascading tiers of high rises; somewhere Sun rarely ever goes.

Still, Sun never got the chance to linger long in this part of Vacuo, when he was younger. Thus, he’ll gladly spend away his hard-earned lien that has come from his team’s latest foray into the wilderness,  take his blessings where he can, and he will forcibly enjoy his smoothies until he can’t stand the taste of strawberries and bananas for a second longer.

He had loitered in the café for hours, until now. The evening light is fading quickly to dusk, with the dying sun casting deep orange rays across an indigo sky as it sinks below the horizon of the dunes which Sun can see, the height of them barely rising over the high sandstone walls that encircle the city.

He keeps to the sidewalk in order to avoid the evening crowds which surge on the main street, and takes a moment to watch the sky.

As he stands silent within the hushed murmurs, a part of him urges his feet to scale the buildings to watch the sunset. He may dislike Vacuo, with its suffocating walls and endless alleyways, but there is a certain magic to the setting sun here. Something which is almost alien from the majesty of the ones he saw in Mistral, or the reflection of the rays on the water in the docks of Vale. In those places, the sun was tranquil, at peace as it fell beneath the distant horizon.

In the desert, the sun dies violently, vibrantly, fighting until the last moment just to linger for another breath.  It's a fitting match for the desert it overlooks, the hardened people who walk the dunes beneath its watchful eye.

But even the sunsets here aren't quite enough, he thinks. The most beautiful sunsets he has ever seen have been the ones he saw in Menagerie, during the year he spent with Blake in Kuo Kuana.

Maybe he’s a bit biased. After all, his memories of Menagerie are tinged bright at the edges with the happiness of being at Blake’s side practically every day. Every sunset he had seen there had been with her, as she had been fond of watching them as well. Whether they sat alone on the deck of her father's palace, or with their feet dipped into the ocean lapping at the city's docks, they had always been together, facing the end of the day.

Nothing could compare to that, he thinks. Not even the brilliant, blazing sky which hangs above his head.

But he still misses the Vacuan sunset, the ferocity that it always died with, all the same. And so, Sun begins to make up his mind to find a building tall enough to climb, when a sudden weight rushes into him.

He may be in the good part of Vacuo, but that title still doesn’t hold much weight when bandits and thieves are more bountiful in the city than water. His mind immediately assumes the worst, and he reaches to the small of his back, where he carries his weapons— 

Though he’s barely grasped onto Jingu Bang’s handle when, with a far gentler hold than any criminal should have, a pair of arms wrap around his waist. A part of him immediately concludes that this is an odd way to mug someone as he hears, strangely enough, something akin to cheering rise up from somewhere at his back.

“Uh,” he says lowly, “look, I don’t have any lien on me, and I’m not interested in anything else, so you’ve probably got the wrong guy for that—?”

He can feel the person clinging to him shaking, laughing perhaps, though it definitely feels more like a purr if he didn’t know better.

“Sun Wukong,” Blake says into his back, her voice light and teasing, “If I wanted money, I know you’re the last person I should go to for it.”

Sun belatedly assumes he must not know better; that his mind has finally reached the breaking point where he’s conjuring hallucinations of Blake, to keep him company. What little coherent thought remains in his mind focuses only on the whispering touch of skin against his abdomen, with less than a second before his brain short-circuits into static.

When he turns, he moves so quickly that his surroundings spin into a blur of purple sky, tan walls, and orange light. And when the world stops streaking before his eyes, he settles on the image of Blake’s face, mere inches underneath him.

His breath catches in his throat, and stays there, held captive along with his racing heart.

The amber in Blake's eyes is alight with a smile that stretches across her lips, and the sight of such a bright expression on her face— something which had been so rare, at Beacon, and almost nonexistent back in Menagerie— causes his heart to stutter and skip, while it continues to pound in his chest.

Her arms are still wrapped around him as he takes a quick look over her shoulder, and registers that the cheering he had heard was coming from the rest of Blake’s team, along with team JNPR. The group of them were approaching quickly from further down the road, but it would seem Blake had broken away from their formation to reach him long before they could.

He feels his eyes go wide as the crackling noise in his head fades into blissful silence, and a grin settles on his own face. He lets out a laugh, breathless and so, so weak, as he returns Blake’s hug. He leans back quickly, and tousles the ends of her now shoulder-length haircut with one hand. He tries his best not to dig the fingers of his other hand into her waist, as he moves.

“I told you it looks good,” he says to her, and winds the strands between his fingers. It is a reference to a video call they had made months ago, when Blake had cut off the majority of her hair, and had shown him the new look for the first time.

She smiles up at him as she basks in the compliment, with her ears relaxed at the top of her skull. Sun is tempted to flick his hand against the tip of one, but he tamps the urge down, and returns both of his arms to circle around her waist.

The weight of Blake against his chest, truly with him for the first time in over a year, reminds him of the rings he carries; and what they mean to him.

His throat goes dry without warning, as the words he’s worked so hard to contain threaten to burst from his mouth.

He wants to ask her the question so badly it scares him. He’s not used to this need, and Blake must see something cross his face. The next thing Sun is aware of, she frowns at him, and asks him if something is wrong.

_“Do you think you could ever want to marry me?”_ The question is poised on the tip of his tongue, waiting to be unleashed.

“Nothing’s wrong,” he says, and smiles.

When Blake returns the gesture, he continues. “So, what've you been up to in my stomping grounds?”


	3. iii.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vacuo, part three.

**iii.**

Strangely enough, the domestic lifestyle is suiting Sun far more than he ever could have expected. If someone had told the version of him from five years ago— the one fresh off a cargo ship, with his sole goal being to galavant through Vale's crowded streets— that he would tolerate, even _enjoy_ , settling down in one place, with one person, he would have asked them what they were smoking. 

And maybe he would have asked if he could have some of it, as well. But he's a changed man now; he has _responsibilities_ to manage. Those days are behind him.

He's had the rings for close to three years. Blake hasn't seen either of them, and he’s worked very hard to keep it that way; though after being together for a year, it was becoming increasingly difficult to hide them from her prying eyes. 

Sun still isn't sure that this isn't a dream, one which is incredibly well-detailed and is lasting for a very, very long time. But, if it is a dream, he really does not want to wake up.

It had been a year after the war, marked by the defeat of Salem, when Sun had finally gotten the courage to ask Blake to go out with him; officially, as in “going on a date” going out. She had said yes, far more quickly than he had expected her to; and the lead up to the date itself had been one of the most nerve-wracking times of his life. He had feared that his hair would spontaneously burst into gray, before he had even shown up on the doorstep of Blake's apartment in Vale, with a bouquet of roses in hand.

Yet, even that stress did not overshadow the moment when he had come face-to-face with Ghira and Kali Belladonna once again, a few months after he and Blake had become official.

After he had recovered from the apparent shock of realizing Sun was going to be a more permanent fixture in his life, Blake’s father had not-so-subtly hinted at all the ways he could make Sun disappear without a trace. Kali, meanwhile, had blatantly asked when she could expect grandkids, moments after Blake had informed her parents of her and Sun's relationship.

At the least, it made for an eventful dinner at the Belladonna household that night, even if Sun had feared for his life for several days after he walked out the front doors. Blake, understanding of her father's guilt-driven protective streak and her mother's warm but overwhelming nature, had patiently listened to him as he recanted the night's events with his head in his hands, culminating in a broken whisper, "She wants two by _when?_ " 

Despite the years taken off his life from that first encounter, he still wouldn’t trade the first date he had gone on with Blake for anything. It had been one of the best times of Sun’s life— and maybe he’s a sappy, lovesick romantic when it comes to her...but he knew from the moment they had returned to the first café they had ever been to together, where they had once sat on an empty roof and sipped tea, and traded stories about the White Fang for the first time, that he was never going back to a life where he wasn’t at her side again.

He’s taken that thought very seriously, as the temporary house in Vacuo that he had once rented with his team is now a more permanent residence for just the two of them. The eviction of his teammates had taken place when Blake had moved in seven months into their relationship, much to the boys' shared displeasure.

Despite the brief guilt he had felt over his team's unexpected stint of apartment hunting, Sun feels confident in thinking that this is the happiest he has ever been. He has a roof over his head, the girl he loves at his side, and his team just a few doors down from him, having soon found their own homes. Though, they may not all be staying in the same place for long. Neptune and Scarlet were dropping small hints with increasing frequency, discussing ideas which involved "extended vacations" to the recovering country of Atlas.

As for Sage— who seems content to remain in Vacuo for the time being— it is well-known that he is not a man cut out for the desert. Team SSSN had quickly learned that there were few things Sage hated more than sand, in the early days of their travels across the dunes; a trait which Neptune and Sun had gladly used to their advantage, even if filling a sleeping bag to the brim with sand had been a far more exhausting task than it first appeared. Sun wouldn't be surprised if Sage eventually decided he wanted to return to the towering forests of his homeland, one day.

Even with the looming possibility of his team venturing out into the world, he still had the luxury of keeping them close at hand, for now. Blake’s teammates, meanwhile, are much more scattered. Ruby has been occupied with aiding the restoration effort to reverse the damages caused by Salem’s rampage, while Weiss has returned to Atlas, working to re-seize control over what remained of her family’s tattered legacy. And, from the last that Sun had heard of her, Yang was helping her father establish a new Huntsman academy on Patch. 

Though Blake always seemed accepting of the distance between her and her team, there were often times where she went on week-long trips to visit the girls, given that the CCT is still down on a global scale; and it so happens that she has just returned from such a visit, this time to Weiss’s estate in Atlas, and is catching up on some much needed sleep in her and Sun's bedroom upstairs.

However, the far-flung nature of Team RWBY, and Blake's frequent visits to them, has given rise to a rather unusual side effect. Strangely enough, _Neptune_ has taken up the unusual habit of using Blake’s absences as liberty to come and crash on their couch. 

Sun has been tempted to ask him why this is, over the course of the last several times this has happened. The man has his own apartment, with his own bed. There’s really no need for him to come sleep in Sun’s living room like a disgruntled husband.  Still, despite the odd nature of it, he overlooks it; because as much as he loves Blake, he also misses having his teammates close at hand. And really, Neptune will be leaving tonight whether he likes it or not, so Sun can tolerate his partner’s presence for a little while longer.

But in short order, he comes to regret letting Neptune come to visit this time.

They've been alone in the tiny kitchen, Blake having left them to their own devices from the moment she walked through the front door, several hours ago. Sun is in the middle of making dinner when Neptune asks him, “So when are you going to finally put that ring on Blake’s finger?”

Sun, holding a salt shaker over a boiling pot in one hand, nearly nearly drops into the pot he’s currently stirring with the other. He spins to glare at Neptune, who is sitting at the kitchen counter behind him, with his chin resting on his hand and a bored look on his tan face.

A moment passes, and his narrowed eyes turn into a look of concern.

“It isn’t that obvious, is it?” he asks, then shakes his head with hasty jerks. “And keep it quiet, would’ya?! She’s _upstairs!_ ”

Neptune rolls his eyes, but goes along with the order.

“Dude, I’ve watched you fidget with those things when you think no-one’s watching you for years now,” he mock-whispers, cupping his hand over his mouth as he speaks, “but whatever you’re doing to hide them, it’s working. I don’t think she knows.” 

Sun lets out a sigh, strong enough that his shoulders sag, and turns back to the simmering pot of spaghetti sauce he’s only just started making. 

“But seriously, are you going to do it soon? You’ve been obsessed with her for years.”

Sun growls at the innocent sauce he’s stirring.

“You know, I’ve not really thought about it,” he answers, staring pointedly into the red pot. Its definitely a lie; after a few years of struggling with the idea of marrying Blake, and after getting past the stage of imagining every possible scenario for how it could go wrong in horrible, meticulous detail, Sun finally feels like he’s in a good enough place to actively plan for a proposal, and the subsequent wedding.

He just doesn’t know if it’s the right time. The old man’s advice still sticks with him, and even though he’s never been more certain that he wants to spend the rest of his life with Blake, he hasn’t gotten that _sense_ that the old man had told him about, so long ago.

The letter he had given to Sun, long creased and faded under the attention of Sun’s drifting fingers, was folded within the pages of a book on bō staff techniques. It's the only book which is nestled into his and Blake’s very full bookshelf— which takes up a majority of the living room wall just outside the kitchen door— that he's certain only he reads.

Sometimes, when Blake is out of the house, he pulls the small paper out just to reread the words. Just to see if there were some hidden message he had missed, some indication of how he would know when the time was right. If there's some sort of step-by-step manual to figuring out what this certainty would feel like.

He hasn't had any luck so far, but that still doesn't stop him from trying, regardless.

Neptune makes a strange noise, which has Sun turning around to see his teammate staring at him with a furrowed brow, and a frown on his lips.

Sun rolls his eyes.

“Okay, okay! I’ve thought about it,” he admits, “I _want_ to…but I really don’t think it’s the right time. She wants to take things slow.” 

Neptune’s expression grows even more disbelieving. “She moved in with you and you hadn’t even been dating for a year,” he says, his words coming slow, as though frustrated at having to explain an obvious topic. “You’ve had those rings for, like, three years now, and her mom is practically begging you for grandkids—”

Neptune cuts that train of thought off quickly, as he notices Sun lifting the pot of boiling water meant for the noodles in his direction. When he continues, he sounds much more animated. “Look, my point is, maybe you won’t know when it’s the right time until you do it? So why not go for it?”

“Why not go for what?” 

Sun’s gaze darts from Neptune’s sheepish expression, drawn by the sound of their newcomer.

He finds Blake, standing in the doorway leading from the living room into the kitchen. She’s wearing her yukata, blearily rubbing at her eyes with her thumb and her index finger.

Sun feels his heart stutter, just as it did the first time he saw her. And practically every time he’s seen her since.

He dares to take a glance in Neptune’s direction, trying to convey every ounce of killing intent he has into the look; because if Neptune exposes his secret _now,_ when he still keeps the rings in his pocket, and is so unsure if proposing to Blake so soon into their relationship is the right thing to do, he’s certain he’ll end up having to advertise an opening on Team SSSN within the next week.

“Ah…” Neptune starts, looking to Sun for some assistance, and quickly realizing he has no allies on that front as Sun glares at him, “the sauce! We’re having spaghetti for dinner, right! I was just telling Sun to go for more onions.”

It’s probably the weakest excuse Sun has ever heard in his life, but he’ll take what he can get.

It seems that Blake accepts it, too, because all she does is nod in silent response to Neptune's rambling, and pad over on bare feet to peer into the pot on the stove. Her nose twitches as she sniffs at the wisps of steam twirling into the air in front of her.

Sun automatically places a hand at the small of her back, and she leans into the touch momentarily, before breaking away.

“I’m going back to bed,” she announces softly, and he presses a quick kiss to her temple. Neptune lets out an exaggerated sigh, and Sun looks to his teammate to see him batting his eyelashes, wide-eyed with longing, and his fingers laced underneath his chin.

“That is so sweet, I think I’m gonna be sick,” he bemoans.

Blake levels a glare at him, though the effect is softened by the sleep which still fogs her eyes, before dipping her head against Sun’s shoulder. The fur of her ears brushes lightly against his neck as they take that moment to flick. She steps away afterward, leaving the side of his body she had been pressed against feeling cold.

He watches her leave, and just as she’s crossing the threshold out of the kitchen he calls to her, “Hey, Blake?”

She pauses, and looks over her shoulder at him.

Her hair has grown back out in the years since she had cut it, and the majority of it slides across her shoulder to fall down her back as she looks at him. Her left hand rests on the doorframe, and Sun can imagine what it would look like, the sight of a thin gold ring with the black diamond sitting on her ring finger, reflecting the lights in the kitchen with dazzling intensity. 

“Yes?” she asks. 

Gods help him. He can feel that he's a heartbeat away from asking her to marry him. He wants to see the ring on her more than anything else at the moment; he doesn’t even care if Neptune is in the room, because at least it means he’ll have a witness to the greatest success in his life— 

“Are you going to want any spaghetti?” he asks instead.


	4. iv.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Atlas.

**iv.**

“I still don’t understand why I have to wear this torture device,” Sun whines. Gravel crunches beneath their feet as they walk, alone, down a wide walking path. Their road is illuminated every few feet by meticulously crafted, wrought-iron lampposts.

After he finishes, Blake lightly hits at his bicep with one hand, while her other remains curled around his forearm.

“Because this is a formal event, Sun, and I don’t think Weiss would appreciate you wearing an open shirt to her charity gala.” 

He grumbles under his breath at her chastising, but drops his complaint nonetheless. He’d rather try to enjoy the evening, and if that meant ignoring the annoyance which is the tuxedo that Blake had all but forced him into, he supposed he would just have to find a way to survive.

It’s worth the suffering, in any case. It's not often he gets to see Blake dressed so elegantly; they so rarely get invited to events which require more than for him to put on a button-down shirt. The figure she cuts in the deep indigo gown she’s chosen for the evening is...rather enticing.

There is, admittedly, another need for him to endure the stiff coat and high-necked shirt. He and Blake are in Atlas on official Menagerie business; which means he must, begrudgingly, admit that he would do well to make a good impression among the stuck-up Atlesian elite. 

After all, this isn’t just _any_ charity event, as Blake has liked to remind him, in the weeks leading up to this event. It is the Schnee Dust Company’s first annual Remnant Gala, an initiative started by Weiss Schnee, and one which had been quickly picked up by various elites in the other kingdoms as well.  


“ _The more the merrier,_ ” Weiss had written, in a letter to Blake once the event had been finalized— though her tone following those words had been more exasperated than pleased, as she lamented the responsibility of having to wrangle dozens of high society’s finest into agreeing on a color palette for the decor.  


Even still, it was just as well that Weiss had considered it a worthwhile endeavor; with the goal of raising funds to help boost various humanitarian causes, it is one of the first acts she has taken to turn her family's legacy into a force for something other than greed.

As the official ambassadors for Menagerie, Blake and Sun have the responsibility of meeting with the few contacts they have garnered in Atlas, and trying to solicit money from their various organizations. Blake prefers the term “collecting donations”. Sun likes “schmoozing” better, but it doesn’t sound as proper.

It is momentous for yet another reason, as well. Even though Blake has been to the Schnee manor on several occasions over the years, this is Sun’s first time on Atlesian soil; a fact which had been wholly exciting, based only on the storied Blake spun him, regaling him on the never-ending expanse of manicured lawns, hedge mazes, and rose gardens which make up the Schnee manor.

He’s not quite sure why anyone would need this much lawn space, or a twenty-something bedroom mansion that seems to be made more out of glass than anything else. From what he understands, Weiss rarely spends time here herself, preferring a much smaller apartment in the city proper, so he’s not quite sure what the estate is used for in her absence.

Regardless of how much square footage is required for someone to live, Sun does acknowledge that the Schnee family’s groundslook spectacular; the three-story tall mansion is aglow with its white lights shining from within. The acres of vast green lawns are perfectly attended to, and sectioned off with delicately trimmed hedges which dot the property. Framed by the shimmering, multi-hued auroras which often appears in the night sky of Solitas, the manor and its grounds looks like a scene straight out of a fairy tale.

Sun is certain he’s even seen a dove or two fly by in the few minutes it’s taken for them to make their way from the landing pad which serves as part of the mansion’s private airfield, with specks of white feathers darting beneath the banners and streamers which criss-cross from the lampposts, emblazoned with the crests of every kingdom in Remnant. There are five different ones in total now, with Menagerie’s emblem suspended on fields of bright yellow amongst the four original kingdoms that are at the forefront of the world’s politics.

The other high society guests of the gala are converging on the mansion as well, and Sun is pleasantly surprised when he notices that he and Blake are not the only Faunus in attendance. There are delegates from at least two other kingdoms who are distinctly not human, ranging from deer Faunus to a reptilian species of some kind; and they are actually interacting, rather amicably, with their human peers, standing in a group which lingers by the main doors leading into the entrance hall. 

He and Blake pass by the socialites with hastily offered greetings on their lips; but Blake seems to be in a rush to get to the ballroom, and hurries him along past the looming security guards stationed at the massive set of glass doors.

The two imposing men seem to recognize Blake, and let her pass without anything more than a nod in her direction.  Sun smiles nervously when he sees one watching him with carefully guarded eyes. He waves at the man— who only turns his back to face the main walkway again. 

With a sigh held behind his lips, Sun returns his attention to Blake.

She's quick to take his hand in hers, after a few more steps of dragging him behind her by his arm. She clasps her fingers around his and, as she gives Sun a brief—  but warm—  smile, leads him into the stark white halls of the Schnee manor.

..:|:..

The ballroom is _massive_ , Sun quickly realizes. However rich he thought the Schnees were, he had not been prepared for how truly obscene it is for this mansion to take up this much space. In fact, the garish display of wealth is almost offensive to his delicate, Vacuo-hewn sensibilities.

He considers whether Weiss would appreciate him suing for emotional damages. After a moment, he decides it may be better to simply ask her for charitable handouts instead. Depending on how much she drinks this evening she might just do it, and be none the wiser to the missing zero in her bank account.

The room is a vaulted three stories tall, with the entirety of its left wall covered in clear mirrors, while the floor of lacquered wooden boards has been polished to a blinding sheen. Four chandeliers dripping with glittering white diamonds hang down from the vaulted ceiling like stars, illuminating the limitless space in soft, holographically created light. Even more diamond-and-glass sconces decorate the pillars which are placed in even intervals along the full wall of windows on the right side.

There’s even enough room for a small orchestra to be seated in a corner of the room, situated on a raised dais— a fact which had nearly made his jaw drop in amazement. Though, he had been quickly distracted by the separate food and drinks tables which span the length of the wall at the far end of the hall. Meanwhile, barious displays, graphs, and statistics for the charities and organizations in attendance have been cordoned off by the wall of windows.

When he and Blake had first walked through the set of doors which had separated the ballroom from the rest of the house, he had let out a sound that was a cross between an agonized groan and a squeak, at just how opulent everything was. It had only taken him a millisecond to realize that there were more diamonds in this room alone than he had ever seen in his life.

Now, he’s closely studying those sconces embedded in the walls, and wondering if just one of them is worth more than the amount of money he’s been able to make in his twenty two years on this planet.

It only takes him a couple of minutes before he comes to the conclusion that yes, a light fixture is more expensive than his entire career as a Huntsman.

He glares into his glass of probably priceless champagne at that realization. A moment later, he casts his attention around the hall.

He stands alone in the ballroom, but in short order, he finds Blake standing by the refreshments table, at the other end of the room from him. The velvet material of her high neck, sleeveless indigo dress shimmers in the chandelier lights as he watches her. Her hair is piled between her ears in a loose updo, fixed into place with a golden clasp. The accessory had been a gift from Yang, given to Blake after her partner had returned from one of her more recent adventures into the uncharted wilderness.

She’s practically radiant. As he watches her, Sun feels a smile blossom on his lips as she laughs at something Yang has told her. More absently, he takes in the way Ruby shoots her sister a wide-eyed look, and Weiss glares at the blonde with narrowed eyes.

This is the first time the girls have been in the same room in months— likely since Salem fell, in fact. And while Sun has yet to talk with them himself, he doesn't mind leaving them alone for now; he knows he has the entire night to catch up with his girlfriend’s teammates.  


And if he’s being honest with himself, he needs a moment of solitude. Taking the opportunity Blake's absence was affording him, and relishing in a quick break away from the exhausting battle of making conversation with one investor or another, was a luxury he had not valued until now. It couldn't have come at a better time, either; trying to remember the names of each person who came to talk to him was more difficult than fighting off a flock of Nevermores with one hand tied behind his back.

He’s eying the room over the rim of his glass as he takes a sip from his champagne, allowing it to bubble on his tongue, and wondering how much longer it’ll take for him to get sufficiently tipsy so he’ll feel more capable of tolerating another round of verbal sparring, when he hears a familiar voice call his name somewhere on his left.

It’s a pleasant surprise that meets him when he turns to see Neptune sauntering in his direction, sleek and polished in his velvet, navy blue tuxedo and bright orange tie. A tall, pale man with clear green eyes follows close at his teammate's back.

A flicker of recognition ignites at the back of Sun's mind as he watches the approaching pair. The man is Neptune's latest fling. One of Atlas’s up-and-coming male models, he recalls, as a memory of the man’s perfectly symmetrical face surfaces into existence from some of the advertisements he's seen on the CCT commercials.

“Look at you!” Neptune says as he approaches, causing him to blink out of his thoughts. “You actually clean up pretty nicely, huh? I almost didn’t recognize you with a shirt on!” 

Sun is tempted to _jokingly_ punch Neptune’s arm for that, once he comes within reach. He lets the impulse go when he sees Neptune’s partner glance between the two of them with a quirked brow.

“How much did he pay you,” he mock-whispers to the man, and Neptune swats at him to get him to back off.

“Where’s Blake?” his teammate asks, and Sun glances over to the refreshments table to see his girlfriend still locked in conversation with her own teammates. Neptune follows his gaze, then whistles low, sounding equal parts admiring and envious. 

“Damn. I don't know how you did it man...but you need to think about giving seminars about how to land people so far out of your league.”

Sun doesn’t dignify that with a response, preferring to remain enraptured by Blake from across the room.

She really is resplendent, lithe and far more graceful than any of the socialites in attendance, looking like a true queen in the way she’s draped in hues of purple and black. Her ears stand high atop her skull, not flat against her hair as they often were, once upon a time, in the presence of so many humans, flicking occasionally in absentminded twitches.

Sun tilts his head to the side while he watches her, and after a few moments, she seems to notice the weight of his stare. She turns to cast a bright look over her shoulder, and the air feels electric on Sun’s skin when the warmth of her amber gaze connects with him.

She smiles, small and only for him, and offers him a quick wave as she takes a drink from her champagne glass. Sun waves back at her, and gives her a thumbs up when she seems to mouth, _“You okay?”_ in his direction. That satisfies her, and she turns back to whatever Ruby is telling her with flailing gestures.

Sun lets out a quiet sigh. Then, sensing attention on him, he looks over at Neptune; who’s looking at him with a strange look in his eyes.

“What?” he asks quietly, and Neptune flashes a grin which winks under the holographic lights.

“I hope you’ve got those rings on you tonight, because this would be the perfect time to ask her a certain _something_ ,” Neptune says, with the smallest regard for subtlety. At his side, his partner turns to look out the window, electing to stay out of the conversation.

Sun scowls at Neptune as he speaks. He’s not going to tell his teammate that he does, in fact, have the rings kept securely in the inner pockets of his tuxedo jacket; he suspects that Neptune would only go tell Blake about it, if he mentioned the rings now.

He had actually considered making tonight _the_ night when Weiss had first sent out the invitations a few months back, along with a private note addressed only to Sun. In it, she had hinted that the balconies just outside the ballroom were picturesque at nighttime; perfect for “private, intimate confessions,” as she had written in flawless, cursive penmanship.

He hadn't doubted her then, and her words were only further affirmed now, after having seen the splendor of the heiress's estate in person. He’s sure anyone would be lucky to get engaged anywhere on the property. Even the bathrooms, if he were being honest; because he’s seen those, and they were just as lavishly decorated as the rest of the ballroom.

It was a discovery that had been to his great awe and even greater dismay—  though he carefully pushes the thought of proposing to Blake in a bathroom, of all places, out of his head, along with the disdain it elicited.  Neptune is still watching him carefully, and he rolls his eyes at the antics, before reaching out and laying a heavy hand on Neptune’s shoulder.

“Aren’t there some rich old men you should be buttering up?” Sun asks. A scowl crosses Neptune’s face like a shadow.

“You’re no fun now that you’re taken,” he whines, with no small amount of exaggerated annoyance, before backing away. He clasps onto his boyfriend's arm as he goes. “Come on Irving, clearly _someone_ wants to drag this out as long as possible.” 

The model, Irving, shoots Sun a quick smile before he is led off by Neptune. Before Sun can say anything further, the pair vanish into the swarms of socializers and dancers which crowd the center of the room. 

Once it becomes clear Neptune isn’t planning to return, Sun decides to finally make his way over to where Team RWBY are still chatting. He weaves easily between groups of humans and Faunus as he goes, his tail occasionally brushing against one person or another.

When he hands off his empty glass to a server who is passing in the opposite direction, Yang finally notices him. He's surprised it didn't happen sooner; she had the advantage of standing opposite of Blake, who in turn had her back to him. 

“Hey there, lover boy,” she calls. Her voice floats over the heads of the guests around him, loud enough to buoy atop the orchestra's soft strings. 

It doesn't escape his notice how Blake hisses Yang’s name, while Weiss and Ruby look over to him; the former with a knowing smile, the latter with a mischievous grin. Yang hurries over to him, while he approaches. Before he can bring himself to feel afraid at what certainly seems like a trap, she guides him forward once she latches onto his elbow.

On instinct, he lifts his arm for her to get a better hold; and as soon as Yang has fully pressed herself into his side, she winks at him.

“We were just talking about you,” she continues, speaking through a wide grin. Without thought, Sun winks back at her. Two can play this game.

“I’m sure it was all good things about my best qualities,” he replies, and he hears Ruby snort; but when he looks in the younger girl’s direction, she’s hiding her face behind the glass of orange juice she’s holding, her famed silver eyes peeking out over the rim, like twin full moons cresting a hill, to stare at him.

Yang silently angles them for an open space on Blake's left, thus putting them between his girlfriend and Weiss. 

When his attention shifts away from the other two members of Team RWBY, he notices how Blake’s back has stiffened considerably since Yang had taken hold of him. She doesn't yet turn to face them, seeming very interested in studying whatever she was within her almost-full glass of champagne. Though she doesn’t seem entirely unbothered; the shape of her Faunus ears have pressed flat against her skull, while the tips of their human counterparts have become tinged a light red.

“Definitely your qualities,” Weiss drawls, once Yang pulls the two of them to a stop at Blake’s side. The sound of her voice draws Sun’s attention, reluctantly, away from his girlfriend.

Though, Weiss is certainly a stunning vision in and of herself, draped in a white floor-length gown, with her ivory hair swept back from her face in elegant braids. She sweeps behind Yang on silent feet, and is quick to shoo Sun away before positioning herself onto Yang’s arm, in his place. 

After Sun has backed off to allow her room, she deigns to offer him a quick, one-armed hug as a greeting, and briefly dips her head onto his shoulder. Once she leans back, she taps her manicured fingers against Yang’s golden prosthetic, the fingers of which curl into a loose fist at Weiss's beckoning.

“Come along, Yang, we need to check on the catering.”

Yang doesn’t argue with the order, though she does toss another wink in Blake’s direction from over Weiss's shoulder. It is a look that promises this departure isn’t the end of whatever conversation they had been holding prior to Sun’s arrival, though she stays otherwise silent as she escorts Weiss in the direction of the ballroom’s exit. The hem of her white-and-orange mermaid gown brushes the floor as they vanish into the crowds.

Once he can no longer see the girls, Sun turns his attention to Ruby; who looks far more comfortable in her red satin pantsuit and black ballet flats than she ever had in the crimson, knee-length dress and low heels she had worn at Beacon’s prom.

He watches as her eyes dart between him and Blake, the corners crinkled with the smile she’s still hiding behind her glass. Sun lifts his hand to offer her a fist bump, in lieu of a proper greeting. She takes the opportunity, and finally lowers her orange juice to reveal the wide smile she’s failing to keep from growing any further. 

Sun is almost afraid to ask what the girls had been discussing, but thankfully he doesn’t get the chance to.  


With a hasty utterance of, “Gonna go find Penny, you two have fun!” Ruby excuses herself, before vanishing from sight. A suspicious scattering of bright rose petals float in the wind created by her exit.

He quirks an eyebrow at the odd behavior the three women had exhibited, before turning his attention to Blake— who is pressing the fingers of her free hand to her temples, and gripping her champagne glass in the other hand hard enough that he fears she’s going to break it.

“Uh…” he starts. He isn't sure what to say next; but while he doesn’t want to risk annoying Blake any further, he’d also rather she not shatter a glass in her bare hand.

He reaches over to take it from her, and thankfully, she relinquishes it with a small huff. Underneath the cover of her bangs, he sees her eyes glowing in the shadow cast by her downturned head, while she watches him through the strands. 

“Fun night, then?” he decides to ask. Blake laughs quietly, but she does lower her hand away from her forehead, and finally raises her head to meet his quizzical stare. 

“The girls were just too eager to know things they shouldn’t,” she tells him.

Sun tilts his head as he begins to ask her what she means, but she cuts him off. “They were trying to guess what your abs feel like, and if they’re as hard as they look.”

He blinks at her, and after a moment he laughs. “Well, you are the world’s foremost expert when it comes to them,” he teases, and she lightly slaps at his arm as her face reddens. 

Behind them, the orchestra has started up a new song, this time boisterous and steady, a tune meant for ballroom dancing. Sun looks over his shoulder as he notices the guests moving to the center of the room. As he watches the ebb and flow of the dancers, he bites back the lingering innuendos that were sitting on his tongue. Despite how much he would love to continue teasing Blake, he’d also like to get at least one dance in, before Weiss and Yang come back looking to pry more gossip out of his girlfriend. 

Thus, with an overly dramatic flourish he’s sure Scarlet would be proud of if he were watching, he takes Blake’s hand in his.

Up close, with her hand cradled in his, she looks like a goddess. It's enough of a comparison that he distantly thinks that he could pray to her like this, could utter words of devotion that would make her more than his goddess or his queen; and the words would be oh-so simple to utter.

_“Would you be my wife?”_

Holding Blake’s gaze in his own, he’s quick to lower his face over her hand, and he presses a kiss to the fingers— delicate, but far stronger than they look, criss-crossed with silver scars traced into her skin— draped loosely over his own.

“Would you like to dance?” Sun asks, as he raises his lips away from her, and slowly meets her widened eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is definitely the longest chapter out of them all, and probably the one that has undergone the most change from the original post. Coincidentally, it’s also my favorite chapter!
> 
> If you have any thoughts on the chapters so far, I would most definitely love to hear them. Thanks for reading!


End file.
